Eddie shouldn’t be laughing. He shouldn’t be laughing, but he was, still holding the phone even though the dial tone was ringing. And the woman from the school had hung up minutes ago.
He shouldn’t be laughing because marriage was a serious thing that he had given so much thought to, wanted it so badly with Steve, and apparently Steve had decided that they were already married.
He put the phone back on the holder and ran a hand down his face, trying to catch his breath, replaying the conversation over and over and over in his head because—because God, this was the best thing that had happened to him in a while.
“Hello? This is Eddie Munson.”
“Yes, hi, I’m calling about your husband? Steve Harrington.”
He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “My husband?”
“Yes, Mr. Steve Harrington? He works here as a history teacher?”
Okay. Well. That was weird. “Yeah, what about?”
“I’m just calling for confirmation on whether or not he’ll be at the Parent’s Night tonight? He mentioned some scheduling conflict a few days ago and I wanted to check in and make sure he could come in?”
“Yeah, he should be there. I’d go and get him for you but he’s asleep.”
He quickly made his way over to their shared bedroom, flopping down onto the bed next to Steve, his hands on Steve’s face in an instant and squeezing lightly to wake him up. “Stevie. Baby.”
Steve squinted, pushing himself up onto his elbows and rubbing his eyes.
“Steve,” Eddie whispered, trying to look serious and bite back his smile. “Did you tell the receptionist at the school that we were married?”
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, before his eyes widened and he groaned, dropping his face onto the pillow, his voice muffled. “I hate you.”
“What did I do?” Eddie laughed, brushing a hand through Steve’s hair.
“You—she was teasing me for not like…tying things down, and—and I panicked and said I already had,” he whined, shaking his head and pressing it further into the pillow.
“Do you want to get married?” Eddie asked, his voice more gentle.
Steve looked up, his face flushed. “I mean…yeah, I do. Please tell me this isn’t you proposing.
Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Steve pressed his hand to it and Eddie had to grab onto to Steve’s arm to stop himself from falling over. “Shut up.”
“Mm—“
“No, no, I am not letting you propose to me while we’re in bed, Eddie.”
Eddie huffed against Steve’s hand, licking it so that Steve let go with a frown. “Ew.”
“You love it.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart.”
“Rejecting me and stealing my pet names, huh?”
Steve rolled his eyes, laying back down in bed, and pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. “I didn’t reject you because you never asked me to marry you.”
“I was going to, but then—“
“Eds?” Steve interrupted, tugging Eddie down into bed. “Be quiet.”
Eddie hated how quickly he shut up, his arms around Steve’s waist, just breathing into Steve’s hair like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. Gods, he was going to marry the fuck out of this man.
And it was going to be the best proposal the world had ever seen.
(Goes along with this post. Someone send me asks about them I want to talk about the husbands.)
(Domestic Steddie AU MasterList)
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Hiiii!
Can I ask for "knocking on the wrong door au" for the short fic thing??
(from this prompt list)
Thank you! This is not so much the wrong door as right address wrong person, but the idea grabbed me immediately and I had to write it.
1.3k
The cat in Anakin’s arms was surprisingly docile. It looked up at him with large green eyes, blinking slowly every so often.
“Where did you come from?” he asked quietly. The little tabby had been hiding in the shed behind his house. In between a disemboweled lawn mower and the snow blower Anakin had been about to take out, the little thing had been curled into a tight ball. When Anakin, gloves on just in case, picked it up it went limp in his arms. He’d momentarily worried that the poor thing had just died. When it started purring, a thin scratchy sound, he sighed in relief.
Anakin brought it into the house, where it could warm up and drink some water. He found an old can of tuna out of a cupboard and offered it that as well. While the cat ate, Anakin noticed it was wearing a collar with a tag. He unclipped it gently, trying not to disturb the cat while it ate, and turned it over in his hands. On one side was a name – Boga – and on the other an address. 212 Baker St. That was just a block down from Anakin’s house.
While he waited for Boga to finish eating, Anakin looked for something suitable as a cat carrier. He’d never owned a pet, having grown up in a small apartment that had a strict no pets policy, and had been tossing the idea around for a couple months now that he owned his own house. He had the vague idea that something enclosed on all sides was recommended for cats. When nothing suitable turned up Anakin sighed and grabbed one of the canvas bags his mother had given him for grocery shopping.
“Please don’t jump out,” he told the cat, before setting her into the bag. When he put picked it up she sat quietly, little head poking out of the top as she looked around. “I’m going to take you home, ok?”
Baker St was a cross street to Anakin’s, just four houses down. 212 turned out to be the second on the street. He stopped out front, frowning. There was a sold sign in the front yard and a u-haul in the driveway. Anakin crossed his fingers, hoping that it was the old family moving out and the cat had simply gotten out in the commotion.
He knocked on the door and waited. A voice called out that they’d be right there, and then he heard the sound of someone shoving things out of the way.
The man who opened the door looked flustered. Anakin sympathized – he had probably looked the same when he was packing and unpacking in his last move. Despite his red cheeks and messy hair, he looked unfairly good for someone who had presumably been moving boxes all day. His long sleeves were rolled up to show well-muscled biceps and his sweatpants were quite flattering. Anakin swallowed and tried to focus on the man’s blue eyes.
“Can I help you?” the man asked gruffly.
“I’ve got your cat,” Anakin said, holding the bag in front of him. Boga meowed plaintively. “She was in my shed, I figure she must have slipped out and gotten scared while you were moving things?”
“That’s not my cat, but good luck finding her owner,” the man said and started to close the door.
Anakin stuck his foot out. It was rude, he knew, but someone abandoning their animal like this much worse.
“This is 212 Baker St, right?”
“Yes,” the man said slowly. He’d given up on trying to close the door, but hadn’t opened it all the way either.
“Then this is your cat,” Anakin told him, showing him the tag on the collar. “Maybe you don’t want her any more but it’s pretty fucking shitty to just abandon her. At least give me whatever things you have left and I’ll make sure she gets a home where she’s actually cared for.”
“That’s not my cat,” the man repeated. “I just bought the house. I’m moving in right now.”
Anakin swallowed. “I’m… sorry,” he said slowly. “I’ll just, go I guess. Congrats on the new house.”
Something must have shown on his face, because the other man’s expression softened and he opened the door all the way and invited Anakin in.
“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he offered, “why don’t you come in and we can decide what to do from here.”
“Anakin Skywalker,” Anakin told him. He pulled Boga out of the bag as soon as the door was closed behind him. She curled up in his arms right away, her scratchy purr starting up again. “And this is Boga.”
The living room was littered with boxes and a couch that was only half-way put together. Obi-Wan sat on one of the boxes and gestured for Anakin to do the same, cheeks pink.
“I’m sorry about the mess, but as I said. I’m just moving in today.”
Anakin lowered himself tentatively onto a box. It bent under him, just a bit, but Obi-Wan seemed unconcerned.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Anakin laughed a little. “Normally I try and greet new neighbors with baked goods or something, not a cat.”
Obi-Wan smiled at him. It was possibly the most beautiful smile Anakin had ever seen. He looked down at Boga quickly, trying to hide the flush he could feel on his cheeks.
“Unfortunately the sellers moved out a month ago, and they didn’t say anything about their cat,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t have their contact info, but I can have my realtor reach out to them. I fear you’re right about her being abandoned, though. Surely they would have asked me to keep an eye out if she’d escaped.”
“If you could, that would be great,” Anakin tried to sound optimistic, but he thought Obi-Wan was probably right. “I can keep her until you hear back. I don’t have anything for cats but I think the local grocery store carries pet supplies and they’re still open.”
“No need for that. I was planning on adopting a cat after I got settled in and I have everything already,” Obi-Wan interrupted him. “If they don’t want her back I’ll keep her.”
He stood and walked over to Anakin, reaching out to take Boga. Reflexively, Anakin tightened his arms around her. He’d been prepared to give her back to her family, of course. But as soon as Obi-Wan had revealed he wasn’t her owner, thoughts of keeping her had started to form. In his arms, she meowed quietly and squirmed.
Anakin swallowed and stood up. “That’s great,” he said, holding her out to Obi-Wan. She was a docile as ever as they exchanged her and butted her head against Obi-Wan’s chin, rubbing a cheek against his beard, when he settled her in his arms. “Um.” Anakin hesitated at the door, reluctant to just leave like this.
“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll keep you updated on her?” Obi-Wan offered.
Anakin smiled in relief and quickly pulled out his phone. Obi-Wan recited his number, and after Anakin had sent him a text and given Boga one final pat on the head, he left.
Back at his house, Anakin looked around. He could picture it now, how a cat would fill the space. Where the food and water bowl would go, which corner would be best for a cat tree. Sinking onto his couch, he pulled up the website for the local animal shelter and started scrolling through the available pets.
Two hours and ten open tabs about cat care later, his phone pinged with a text.
There was a photo – a selfie – of Obi-Wan laying down on the now assembled couch with Boga on his chest.
Boga Kenobi and I would like to invite you over for dinner.
Anakin bit his lip and smiled. I’d love that.
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